


Tummy Time

by st4rlabsforever (omaken)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Belly Rubs, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8106409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omaken/pseuds/st4rlabsforever
Summary: Sometimes, Barry finds that asking for forgiveness is easier than asking for permission. Cisco, unfortunately, finds he doesn't have much say in the matter.





	

**Author's Note:**

> check me out on [tumblr](http://st4rlabsforever.tumblr.com)

Cisco doesn’t believe Iris at first when she tells him how good young Barry was at weaseling out of trouble with Joe. It isn’t until he and Barry are actually dating that he truly begins to believe.

When they first tumble into bed together all eager and awkward and clumsy, the first couple of hours are spent finding delightful places on each other’s bodies to work each other up. Barry’s inner thighs and the nape of his neck are particularly sensitive, and it turns out Cisco’s belly is...well, ‘sensitive’ doesn’t really begin to describe the bliss he feels when Barry kneads the folds of skin as he rubs firm circles there.

It’s like someone’s flipped a switch in his brain. His pleasure centers are overloaded, and the only thing he can really focus on is how absolutely incredible Barry’s hand feels. Cisco would be lying if he said he had any idea what had happened in the past half hour, all he knows is that he needs Barry to continue doing this for approximately forever.

And despite how oblivious Barry is, he can be pretty observant sometimes – has to be to keep his job as a CSI – which is how Cisco finds himself in his current predicament.

He’s washing the dishes from dinner when there’s a sudden gust of wind, the dry dishes are stacked in a neat pile on the drying rack, and there are arms wrapped around his middle rubbing his stomach.

“N-not that I don’t appreciate this, Bar,” Cisco says, and it takes him a while to find his voice between the fresh waves of pleasure, “but what’s the occasion?”

Barry’s voice is hesitant. “I, um...I might have burned the suit.”

Cisco sucks in a breath – _dammit, we talked about this, Barry!_ – and he’s about to yell at Barry, he really is, but then Barry’s fingers splay out on his belly, long, spindly digits reaching down to massage at the creases of Cisco’s hips, and Cisco _melts_. He thinks he should probably be embarrassed that Barry is supporting half his weight as Cisco braces his hands on the sink, arches his back, slumps further down into Barry’s rearward embrace.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Barry says, and it sounds like he means it.

Cisco opens his mouth to tell him that it’s not okay, that this is the fifth time this month he’s going to have to repair the suit from scratch and that shit’s _expensive_. Then Barry starts vibrating his fingers.

Cisco moans. The combination belly rub and vibrator massage is mind-blowing. Somehow, he feels like he’s being played.

For the record, though, Cisco hasn’t forgotten about his anger. He’s just choosing to table it until such a time that he’s able to scrounge together enough brain cells to actually manage the task. Right now, his entire body, brain and all, is putty in Barry’s hands.

*

In the morning, Cisco wakes to an enormous breakfast spread laid out on the kitchen table. He’s not fooled. Barry can’t cook to save his life. But that’s fine, because Cisco loves the omelettes and bottomless pancakes from the place down the street, and Barry loves treating him in the mornings.

Cisco’s about to open his mouth. To tell Barry that he can’t bribe his way out of trouble, but then Barry’s serving him a stack of fresh pancakes. The syrupy goodness hits his nose and he forgets to be angry all over again.

*

Cisco is seething.

They talked about this! Barry was supposed to be on bedrest all day, owing to the spectacular ankle injury he sustained from pushing his cosmic treadmill training earlier in the day. When Cisco goes to check up on him though, the bedroom is empty, and for a heart-stopping moment, Cisco’s brain starts running through the gruesome hypotheticals.

But then he gets the news alert on his phone and turns on the TV to see the Flash fighting an apartment fire. Even through the television screen, he can see the way Barry favors his left leg over his right, and if he continues exerting it like that…

Cisco is absolutely going to kill him. He lets himself stew in his anger as he waits for Barry to come home, even works himself into the first migraine he’s gotten since learning to control his powers better.

This is how he imagines it will play out: Barry will rush through the door all flustered and babbling and apologetic, Cisco will air his grievances out, and Barry, while sufficiently cowed, won’t stop being reckless in the slightest. But it’s cathartic, being able to let out his anger in a relatively healthy way.

Cisco’s expectations-versus-reality game has never been strong, though.

Case in point? This is what actually happens: Barry bursts through the door (literally) in a rush of wind, but instead of babbling or apologizing or even speaking, he zips behind Cisco, places both hands on his belly and begins to rub.

“Ugh…” Cisco groans, halfway between exasperation and pleasure.

Barry starts right off the bat with the vibrations. His fingers reach down below the hem of Cisco’s boxers and rub at the creases of his hips, and okay. This is getting dangerous. Barry adapts quickly, and he already knows pretty much all the tricks to rendering Cisco speechless, if the current situation is any indication. Giving him more ammo would be...bad? No, good. Cisco whimpers in response to a particularly sudden vibration. Definitely bad.

The only good thing is that Barry’s standing behind him. It means Cisco doesn’t have to look into those puppy dog eyes, too, which: fatal.

“Yesssss,” Cisco moans out before he can stop himself. He snaps his neck back in satisfaction, and it occurs to him that he _probably_ isn’t doing a very good job with airing out his grievances, but. Well.

A little voice whispers in his ear that he’s supposed to be _angry_ , not happy, and he’s _definitely_ not supposed to be letting Barry have his way with him.

He jumps to attention. “Dude. Barry! You can’t just-!”

Barry reaches his fingers into Cisco’s hair and massages his scalp, gentle vibrations going as he kneads at the skin. And Cisco is done for. The tension leaves his body. He drops like a puppet cut from his strings, and Barry catches him in a bridal carry. So much for a token show of resistance.

His world explodes in a burst of color, the wind picks up around him, and a second later he finds himself face-up in bed. It’s all he has time to process before Barry, sitting up beside him, starts rubbing his belly again.

“I’m sorry,” Barry says feebly. “I know you’re upset with me, but I...I can’t abandon this city just because I’m injured.”

Same old song and dance. Cisco tries to open his mouth, tries to correct Barry’s quite frankly erroneous views, but the second he does, Barry ramps up the vibrations.

He _wants_ to say, “I’m not asking you to abandon the city, I’m just asking you to tell me beforehand so I can help,” but what comes out is, “ _guhhhh_.”

Cisco’s moaning sounds absolutely filthy, but he can’t help it. Barry doesn’t even seem to notice, just plows on blithely with his inane excuses and apologies and explanations.

“And I know you wanna help. I love that you offer,” Barry says, voice soft as he switches from rubbing circles to a back and forth motion. “But I can’t let you get caught in the crossfire. Does that make sense?”

“ _No!_ ” Cisco wants to say. It makes no sense at all. It makes negative amounts of sense, actually. The whole reason he and Barry have been training together after hours has been so he can help the Flash out in the field. It had been Barry’s idea to begin with. That Barry’s got a protective streak a mile wide isn’t lost on him, though.

Barry clenches his hand into a fist and gently rolls the backs of his knuckles across Cisco’s stomach. Vaguely, Cisco is aware that he’s arching his back and trying to press his stomach further up into Barry’s hand, but mostly, there’s a heavy haze of arousal that’s steadily growing. And this should _not_ be a kink! It shouldn’t. He curses his body’s traitorous reaction as he tries to gather up the willpower to roll away. This is actually an important argument.

Barry looks contemplative. Gives his knuckles a quick vibration and studies Cisco’s reaction. Just great. It’s not as if Barry’s arsenal of derail-Cisco’s-argument techniques isn’t already large enough.

When Barry adds his other hand, massaging in slow circles as the knuckles of his other hand continue their ministrations, Cisco gives it up as a loss. Another one-sided argument. He _is_ proud of himself, though, for managing to get out “we’re talking about this tomorrow” before drifting off.

“Okay,” Barry says gently. As Cisco closes his eyes, Barry continues to make his case for his innocence.

*

It’s July, and Barry sneaks them into the Star Trek panel at Comic-Con.

Needless to say, they don’t talk about it the next day.

*

“What’re you working on?” Caitlin asks, sliding over to Cisco’s workstation for a better look.

On the one hand, “I’m building tummy armor to thwart my renegade speedster boyfriend” sounds terribly embarrassing, but on the other hand, Caitlin _is_ a biologist. She’s even got the fancy doctorate. Maybe she could help him figure out how to stop his body from reacting to Barry’s tactics.

“Just some gadgets for CCPD,” he says, as he smoothes out the metal plates. He’d probably die of embarassment if Cait knew what he was really building.

*

Cisco gets back to STAR first. Slips off his costume and goggles, exhausted but uninjured.

He fastens on the armor and waits.

Barry had looked him in the eye and promised – _promised_ – not to go after the few Rogues who had escaped custody tonight. It was a job well done. They had thwarted Snart’s heist with no casualties, and the remaining Rogues could wait until tomorrow. As it was, they were both exhausted and in dire need of a good night’s rest.

But Barry had dashed off anyway.

When he finally enters the Cortex, pulls off the cowl to reveal his soot-stained but otherwise unblemished face, Cisco readies himself. Barry looks utterly drained. Any other time, Cisco would be at his side in a heartbeat helping to tend to his injuries, but now? Cisco’s slightly glad for it. An exhausted Barry is less likely to argue back as stubbornly.

Barry walks forward slowly, but with purpose, and Cisco braces for impact in three.

Two.

One.

Barry spreads his arms as if to go for a hug. It’s almost endearing in that “I think I’m being subtle, but I’m really, _really_ not” way that only Barry Allen can pull off convincingly. At the last second, his left arm shoots down towards its intended target while the other actually does pull Cisco in for an embrace.

_Clack!_

Barry freezes. He blinks, once, twice, as sleep-heavy eyes process the obstacle in his way, then rasps out, “not tonight, Cisco. I promise we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Cisco rolls his eyes. ‘Promise.’ Full air quotes. Then – _ooof!_ – Barry is dropping to his knees and pulling Cisco down with him.

“Ow.”

Cisco finds himself flat on his back with Barry draped over him like a human blanket. He lays the palm of his hand against the armor and promptly... _phases through it_.

No. No, no, no.

Cisco groans, first in pure exasperation, then in pleasure. Even with his face buried in Cisco’s neck, Barry easily seeks out all of the spots on Cisco’s belly that he knows turn his brain to mush. And he slides his other arm up, cards his fingers through Cisco’s hair, and massages at his scalp.

Well.

Cisco-0. Barry-3.

He doesn’t even try getting out his argument this time.

“Tomorrow,” Barry says as he starts to drift off, too. “Promise.”

*

“Cisco! Y-you can’t keep being so reckless! You almost…! And I–”

Cisco walks right up with impunity and rests a hand on Barry’s stomach. Barry’s eyes glaze over when he begins rubbing slow circles.

“What’re you do–”

Cisco brings his other hand to the nape of Barry’s neck, and he _melts._ It’s incredible.

He’ll stop and let Barry air out his grievances eventually, because he’s an actual functioning adult who’s good at actual adult relationships _thank you very much_. But for now? He’s going to savor every bit of this.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, comments give me life!


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